Hell Transporter (Between) (12 page)

I raced out of the room and down the stairs, pushing past students in my rush to get outside. When I came to the main floor, the teeming throng of people engulfed me so I had no choice but to slow down and go with the flow. Scanning the masses making their way through the halls, I clenched my jaw in agitation. I couldn’t see him anywhere. A seed of doubt began growing in my chest.

Did he say he would meet me outside? Or outside the classroom?

I peeked over my shoulder, wondering if I’d missed him in my hurry to get out. The crowd pushed me forward toward the exit doors and I bit my lip, not sure which direction I should be headed. Bouncing up and down on my tiptoes to see over the heads of the other students, I finally caught a glimpse of him.

Leaning against a statue just outside the glass double doors of the entrance, he watched the steady stream of people make their way past. I strained toward him, twitching with excitement. Finally, I made it through the doors, flung my bag on the ground and leapt into his arms. His throaty laughter rang in my ears as he held me close, his cheek pressed against my head. His familiar scent wrapped around me, and all my worries flew away like dandelion seeds on the wind. People continued past in a blur of humanity, but all I knew was Aiden.

When he set me down, I scanned him from head to toe, checking to make sure he was okay.

“What? You thought I’d got myself stabbed full of holes and didn’t tell ye? Is that why you’re looking me over like a prized horse that’s wandered off into the woods?”

“Something like that.”

He spun around slowly with his arms held out for my inspection. My eyes traveled down the plaid shirt stretched across his shoulders to the jeans slung low on his hips. He definitely didn’t look damaged. He looked... perfect.

“Content?” he asked, a smile toying with his lips.

“Well, I haven’t seen underneath yet,” I whispered, moving in for a kiss.

I heard a tactful cough behind me, then turned to see Madame Guillaume.

“Now I understand the reason for your poor attention in class today, Mademoiselle Waters.”

I snapped upright, hoping she hadn’t heard what I’d said.
“Uh, Madame Guillaume, je vous presentez mon fiancé, Monsieur Aiden MacRae.”

As I introduced him, he took her hand and brushed his lips against it.
“Enchanteé, Madame. Lindsey m’a indiqué qu’elle aime votre classe le meilleur.”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise, probably because of his perfect French and old-fashioned manners but maybe because he’d said I liked her class the best. It was true; she was my favorite teacher but I don’t think I’d ever told her that specifically.

“C’est vrai?”
she responded and the two of them had a brief exchange while I looked on, grinning like a fool idiot, proud that I was able to follow their conversation. Her eyes flicked over to me with a hint of curiosity, like she wanted to ask me something, but then she bid us both
adieu
.

When I turned back to Aiden, the look on his face told me he was about to burst with news.

“What?” I laughed at him, tilting my head in question.

“Come along, lassie. I’ve been waiting to show you something.”

“I’ve been waiting, too,” I responded and he shook his head.

“Nae, it’s not what you think,” he said, taking my hand. Now my curiosity was definitely piqued.

We walked hand in hand through the campus to the car, then drove a few miles out of town, until the countryside grew thick with trees. Autumn colors of yellow and red painted the landscape, the falling leaves dancing over us in an elegant ballet. Sunshine warmed my cheeks and I inhaled the crisp, fresh air, thankful just to be with him again. The road meandered for a bit and Aiden slowed as we neared a beautiful country home with a white wraparound porch. A black lab, sleeping out front, lifted its head in acknowledgment as we passed, but quickly settled back down to resume its afternoon nap.

To my surprise, Aiden pulled onto a dirt road just beyond the big white house and continued further on into the woods toward what looked like stables. He cut the motor outside a white cottage with red shutters and a cedar shingle roof. He got out of the car and I followed, wondering why he’d brought me here. A creek behind the house sparkled in the sunshine, ambling lazily by. Two deck chairs nestled next to one another like lovers sharing a private moment, gazing out over the stream. The sounds of running water and birds singing in the trees wrapped around us in a peaceful embrace.

“Aiden, what are we…” I began, enchanted but confused.

“This is where I live now. ‘Tis my new home.”

“Wait. What?”

He practically glowed with excitement, but I just stared at him, uncomprehending.

“It happened last night when I drove into town after seeing you off to sleep. I was in high spirits after getting the papers, so I stopped at a pub here in town and ordered a dram of whisky to celebrate. An older man sitting across the room heard my accent and came over to introduce himself. He said, ‘Hallo, I’m Ian MacKinnon. Ye must be new in town, lad, for I’m sure I woulda kent a fellow Scot if I’d seen ye afore.’” I laughed at his impersonation of the man, his voice low and gravely.

“Well, Ian and I had a couple of drinks and it turns out he lived in Inverness as a lad, which isn’t very far from my home. I told him as how I did not have a place to stay yet, being newly arrived into town. He said that his wife’s mam had recently passed, so they had a place for me, if I’d like, being nearly family and all. He has a business building houses and is fair wealthy for a small town like this. He agreed to let me tend his horses in exchange for room and board, and offered to pay me a small wage besides. So, thanks be to God and to Ian MacKinnon,” he gestured with his chin toward the main house, “I’ve got papers, a job and a place to live now.”

With an excited squeal, I flung my arms around his neck and he feigned stumbling backward, laughing. His smile was more relaxed than I’d seen it in weeks. Then he took my hand and gave me a tour of the little house, which had an open, airy feel to it, though it was not much bigger than my dorm room.

A faded blue and yellow striped couch to my right invited me to curl up and stay a while. A wooden rocking chair draped with a handmade afghan sat facing the modest brick fireplace. To our left stood a knotty pine dining table with two chairs and a vase full of white daisies. He led me through a narrow hallway to the rear of the house.

Sun streamed in through the bedroom window, which overlooked the creek out back, suffusing the room in a warm, yellow glow. A queen-sized bed dominated the space, which was fairly crowded with a chest of drawers on one wall and a nightstand in the corner. I smiled at the feminine bedspread: a country quilt of pink and blue squares. Aiden shrugged good-naturedly, reading my expression.

It hit me all of a sudden that we were alone—really alone—and I gave him a sideways glance. A low, satisfied hum came from his throat. He ran a hand down the length of my back and bent his head to kiss my neck. I curled my fists in his hair while his mouth turned me into a pool of melted chocolate. I tried to pull him towards the bed, but he stopped me with a shake of his head.

“Not yet, love,” he said. “I still have more to show you.” He threaded his fingers through mine and led me out of the bedroom, pausing to admire the little bathroom that now belonged to him. Just to the right of the dining table, white lace curtains gave the tiny kitchen a homey feel.

“I thought you’d like to see this,” he said, sounding purposefully nonchalant. He stepped aside, revealing a utilities room, complete with washer and dryer. A whimper of joy escaped from my throat. On the drive from the cabin to the school, I’d bitched and moaned about having to take my clothes to the nasty laundromat downtown, where the homeless often spent their evenings. And now I could do the wash here, with him. Here, in his house. The idea just amazed me.

“It’s perfect,” I said, and received a beaming smile in response. We wandered onto the grey, weathered back patio and sat on the deck chairs, listening to the water running by while I filled him in on my first week back at school. He listened patiently, but I could tell he was itching to keep moving.

“Would you like to see the stables?” he asked, and I nodded. We walked through the field to the stables, which were clean and bright. He spoke softly in Gaelic to one of the horses, who whinnied in response.

“You just arrived last night and already the horse seems to know your voice.”

“Horses are very intelligent creatures. They can sense when you’re a friend. This one’s name is Amber, and she is a bonnie mare, aye?” He stroked her mane affectionately and Amber rubbed her head against his arm. “She belongs to Lady MacKinnon, but I don’t think she’d mind if we took her for a ride. Are you up for it, lass?”

His eyes twinkled at me and I could tell he was remembering, as I was, the last time we’d been on a horse together. I blushed, thinking of the picnic when I’d dragged my finger down his chest and practically dared him to have his way with me. He laughed, seeing my reddened face, and drew me into his arms for a deep kiss. Amber snorted loudly behind us as if she were affronted by the display and we broke off, grinning at one another.

He saddled the horse and led her out of the stables, then helped me up, and easily swung onto her back himself. I clasped my arms around his ribs nervously and he eased my grip, assuring me that he wouldn’t let me fall. Amber started into the countryside at a gentle pace and I relaxed at the rocking motion of her movement. The MacKinnons’ sprawling acreage felt like it was a million miles away from everything though it was only a few minutes’ drive from the college. The trees rustled and sighed as we ambled past, their leaves a symphony of color. When we wandered over toward the main house, a stocky white-haired man looked up from the hole he was digging and waved at us.

“And that’ll be Ian.” Aiden spurred the horse on lightly and pulled us up next to Ian, who was wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. His face was burnt a dark pink color, a telltale sign that he’d worked for years in the sun. Deep laugh lines etched his cheeks, and the corners of his eyes crinkled at me in a warm, welcoming smile as Aiden and I dismounted.

“Ah, this must be the bonnie lass you were telling me about. I can see plainly now you weren’t exaggerating a bit, lad.”

I lowered my eyes with a bashful smile, which seemed to please him greatly. He patted one big work-worn hand over mine.

“Can I be helping you with the digging then, Ian?” Aiden asked, reaching for the shovel, but Ian batted his hand away.

“Och, no. If I don’t do my share of the work, the missus will think I’ve gone soft and won’t feed me meat and potatoes for my supper. And we can’t have that, can we?” He patted his taut, round belly with a mischievous look and we both laughed. “Come to think of it, it’s getting to be about supper time. Would you care to join us at the big house for a bite? My bride would be honored to meet you, Lindsey.” He tipped his head to me in invitation and I felt completely unworthy of such formality. I started to stammer a response, but Aiden saved me.

“We’d love to, Ian, and thank you kindly. Let us just go rub down Miss Amber here,” he patted the horse on the neck, “and we’ll be down to the house straight away.”

The “big house” lived up to its name. It seemed even larger on the inside than it had from the road. The living and dining areas were combined into a sunny great room with high ceilings and gleaming wooden beams. Mrs. MacKinnon was working in the kitchen when we entered, but hastened to come meet us at the door, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Well, my, my, who do we have here? Could it be Miss Lindsey? Come in, come in!” Her accent was soft, but her southern genteel manner came through loud and clear as she took my hand and ushered me inside, talking the whole time. “But look at me. I have completely forgotten my manners. Please forgive me. I am just more excited than an old hen should get! I’m Sarah MacKinnon, Ian’s wife, but please call me Sarah.”

She had stark white hair piled loosely in a bun on the back of her head, crystal clear blue eyes and a swath of bright pink lipstick for color. And even though she was wearing an apron, complete with little gravy stains, her fingers were studded with jewels and huge diamond earrings peeked out from behind her snowy tendrils.

Ian appeared from the hallway, freshly showered and looking very handsome in a canary yellow polo shirt and khakis. He gave Sarah a light squeeze, kissing her on the cheek as he passed, then pinched her on the behind. She jumped a little and snapped a dishtowel at his retreating form. The smile on her face made it clear this was a common ritual of theirs. Ian strode forward to shake Aiden’s hand again in welcome. He tipped his head to me with a smile.

“Can I get you something to drink? Soda, tea perhaps?”

I asked for an iced tea and Sarah caught my eye with a nod as she headed back to the kitchen.

“Aiden,” he said, “I’ve a fresh bottle of 15-year Glenlivet, if you’d like to share a drop with me.” Aiden eagerly agreed and followed him into another room while I wandered around, looking at their photographs and admiring their home.

Both Ian and Sarah looked to be in their sixties, so I expected to see pictures of grandchildren in the frames clustered on the top of the piano and over the mantle. And there were family photos, to be sure, but I couldn’t tell which ones were their children. Perusing the assorted photos, I found several of one boy at various ages. He was obviously their son, or perhaps a grandson who looked very much like them. He had wavy, brown hair, dark blue eyes, and fair skin. One particular photograph stood out among the others: of him in a high school football jersey, smiling into the sun with his helmet tucked in the crook of his arm.